Monday, October 20, 2008

new love.

Throughout this past week I have spent a significant period of time in contemplation - intentionally attempting to take time to perform the act of weeding, reconciliation, and reconfiguration of myself and God.

When I was a child I was scared of my dad. As a man he I believe he presented as he believes/believed he should, what society suggested of his position within the home and as the norm. As a provider, lover to my mom & father, he filled all roles. Still, as I look back I see that there was always fear related to my relationships with him. I loved him and he presented to love me but something was missing. I don't believe, looking back, that it was a healthy fear, nor an unhealthy fear. Who is to say what the difference between healthy and unhealthy fear in my relationship with him would be though?

I was scared to spill water at dinner. I was nervous to say the wrong things in the wrong tone of voice. I was scared to disagree, afraid to fight, anxious against unrealistic expectations, fearful of presenting alternatives to what he stated was truth, fact, not to be argued with. I remember fighting with him and the consequences that often followed which only planted bitter seeds in my belly of fire. I remember painful thoughts and times when I wondered if my dad loved me. I remember seeking to embrace him but wondering if he wanted to ever embrace me in the evening. As tears begin to well up and sting my eyes in this very present moment, those memories come flooding back. I was scared and some of that scared youth still resides within me.

I think, through all of these moments and memories, that I still knew my dad loved me. I felt it in his hugs. I'm not sure if this was because of my mom's unwaivering demonstration of love toward my dad or simply the grace of optimism running hot through my blood, but I always knew my dad loved me. Through the times of affirmation into the moments of deep pain, I always knew.

When I was a child I was scared of my God. As a child, God was always a male who presented as we, the "church" believes/believed we should, what society suggested of His position within the home and as the norm. As a provider, lover to my mom & Father, He filled all roles. Still, I was always scared of God. I loved Him and He presented to love me but something was missing. I don't believe, looking back, that it was a healthy fear. Who is to say what the difference between healthy and unhealthy fear in my relationship with Him would be though?

I was scared to be friends with those who stated they were gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgender. I was scared to say the wrong things in the wrong tone of voice to the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was scared to disagree with church officials, afraid to fight and question, anxious against unrealistic expectations, fearful of presenting alternatives to what the church stated was truth, fact, not to be argued with. I remember fighting with those within the church and the consequences that often followed with only planted bitter seeds in my belly of fire. I remember painful thoughts and times when I wondered if God loved me. I remember seeking to embrace God but wondering if God wanted to ever embrace me in the evenings. As tears begin to well up and sting my eyes once again, those memories come flooding back. I was scared and some of that scared youth still resides within me.

As Jake and I begin this process of healing I have found my voice to verbalize this fear. I believe that at this time in my life I am beginning to heal and reconcile my love with God as I have reconciled my love with my father. The pain of my youth regarding my relationship with my dad is no longer. He is a most wonderful, lovely man and I, a growing daughter. The pain of my youth regarding my relationship with God is ever decreasing as I begin to embrace the God of love that I have been longing for, deeply seeking after, all of my life.

Little hands and feet once covered in street filth now clean and probing. Little eyes and faces that were once blank expressions of despondence and fright, now filled with inquisition, personality, love, love, love.

Flowers were treasures, water was a sustaining magic, sunlight was our food, and the wind was our breath.

Everywhere we turned this weekend, something tugged at us. New or old was irrelevant, life and wonder nibbled at parts of us that have been somewhat dormant in the emotional freezer that is Chicago.

We came here hoping to have a little time to recover, and unfortunately, recovery has involved forgetting.

"Never forget" we say, but still we forget.

We forget where we were. We forget the ones who left us behind.

And most painfully, we forget those we had to leave behind. Seeing these two here really hurt us because we had to leave behind someone we wanted to invite into our lives. He lives on, and so do we, but separately.

But not for these kids. Not for Sharon. They are together. A family. And a good one at that.